


What He Is and Was By Blood.

by Kali Cephirot (KaliCephirot)



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Company, Evil dad club, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:44:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaliCephirot/pseuds/Kali%20Cephirot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Artemis can count with one hand the times she and her mom have had visitors at their apartment. So she's rather surprised that Kaldur decided, out of the blue, to drop by. (Or: welcome to the Evil Dad Club, Kaldur. Meetings are on Fridays)</p>
            </blockquote>





	What He Is and Was By Blood.

Nothing and no one  
Will stop him becoming  
What he is  
And was by blood  
No Other Way, Tarzan 

She's taking off her shoes, holding the groceries bag with just one arm, talking before the door even closes. “Mom, they didn't have natural ginger, I tried three stores: I'm sure we can make do with--”

“Artemis?” her mom interrupts her, wheeling herself from the living room so she can see her from the door. “Dear, we have company.”

“Company?”

She frowns. There have been two times in her life that anyone has come to see her at the apartment: the first one, when Batman and Ollie came to offer her to join the team and the second one, a little after the team's first New Year, when she introduced her whole team to her mom: no-one really comes to see her and her mom. She knows that Jade drops by every now and then, but neither her mom nor her consider that a visit. 

For a moment she considers grabbing one of the hidden knives her parents had set in the walls ages ago but her mom seems both calm and happy, so, whoever it is, can't be dangerous. So she walks into the living room, her frown melting away when she finds a very embarrassed looking Kaldur. He looks so out of place in their living room, holding her favorite cup.

“Kaldur? What are you doing here?” 

He puts the cup down, standing up.

“I apologize for dropping by unannouced, Artemis.”

“No need to apologize for that, dork, you just should've told me. I would've come back sooner.”

Paula takes the bag from her, setting it against her legs, giving her a smile.. “Your friend was so kind as to help me with the tea, Artemis. He was truly a godsend.”

Which would make sense if not for the fact that her mom hasn't really needed her help for anything related to cooking since about a week after she came back, because you can take the clever assassin out of crime, but never take out her cleverness. But hidden in her mom's smile is something else. Her mom gives her a small nod towards Kaldur and Artemis really looks towards her friend, taking notice that there's something just... off with him today.

“It was my pleasure, Mrs. Crock. Still, I'm afraid I should leave.”

There's another glance between her and her mom. Mom-daughter talks are still a little difficult between them, even after three years. Easier now than when her mom had just gotten out of jail, still not as good as she things it ought to be. 

But, the whole making plans and silent communication? They've gotten that honned up since she was _five._

“Oh, but you should stay and have dinner with us,” Paula says. “I was about to make some curry. The recipe is for more than two, even with Artemis' apetite.”

“Hey, being a hero means you burn through a lot of calories, even without being a speedster,” Artemis jokes. “C'mon, Kal. Mom's not that bad of cook. Doesn't even use poison now-a-days.”

“Just for that, you're doing the dishes tonight, Artemis,” her mom laughs. “So, Kaldur'ahm, can I take that as a yes?”

One of the reasons her mom was so good when she was a criminal was because she could read her opponent movements. While Artemis always talks a lot about her teammates with her, she's pretty sure that she has never told her mom that the best way to get Kaldur to agree to do something is to cut off his choices.

Finally, Kaldur sighs and nods. “It would be an honor, Mrs. Crock. Please, tell me in which way I might assist you.”

“For now, in nothing.” Paula smiles, wheeling herself towards their tiny kitchen. “Artemis, I'll let you and your friend know when the dinner is ready.”

If Kaldur then takes notice of how Paula hadn't needed help for the tea and she just used that for getting him to stay, he doesn't say and, frankly, she doesn't give him time to do so: she grabs his wrist and tugs before Kaldur decides that whatever troubled him enough to search her instead of Roy or Dick isn't important enough.

“C'mon, let's go up.”

Kaldur's politeness plays against him again: he sighs and nods, and Artemis pretends not to notice the sigh, much more worried about the offness she gets from him.

*

Once upon a time, her dad paid the other tennats of the place for the exclusive use of the roof, since it was where he and mom used to train Jade and her. But that's been over for a while now, even before she joined the team: by the time she turned twelve the roof wasn't equiped enough for what her dad wanted to teach her so they started going to other places that were more prepared for training a kid into becoming an assassin.

But there's still a bullseye she keeps when she's too pumped on adrenaline to sleep where she can shoot until her arms drop. Once it stopped being where she was trained, it became kind of her shelter, much more than her room ever was. 

So it's pretty weird having someone here, even if that someone is Kaldur. 

“So...” she starts, but stops herself, pretty sure that the direct approach wont' work with Kaldur. It'd be easier if she just knew what he's trying to hide, but she's basically flying blind. Instead of asking a 'what's up' that will only end with Kaldur gently assuring her that he was just around the neighborhood – or the Atlantean equivalent of that – she opens her arms wide, as if showing something. “What do you think.”

“... of the roof?” Kaldur's eyebrow raises. Artemis kind of loves causing that reaction on the guy: she's pretty sure that if he wasn't so polite, Kaldur's sarcasm would rival with hers. 

“Duh,” she grins and shrugs and then, since she can't really think of anything else to say. “You're looking at my first training room. Although calling it that it's a bit too much.”

Kaldur's eyes lose the escepticism, looking around more slowly. Artemis kind of wishes she could offer happy memories for her friend to see the place as she sees it, but she knows her definition of happy childhood memories is kind of skewed like _“so hey, see that spot by the corner? I lost a tooth there when I was six and since I was crying we stopped the training early and the four of us went to the movies. Or, right there, where the potted flowers are now? When I was almost twelve I managed to flip over my dad with a scissor's kick and I think that was the first and probably last time he ever said out loud that he was proud of me”_.

There's a reason why she only talks about her childhood memories with Dick, really.

But instead, Kaldur frowns a bit, moving towards the ledge, sitting down. Artemis frowns as well, concerned. Kaldur doesn't look at her, but he starts talking.

“It is strange to hear you talk about your past, my friend.”

“Well... 'cause there's not much point, I think,” she shrugs. “It's done. And it's over. But it's not... well. I'm okay with it? Okay-ish. Or. Crap, I suck at words.”

“Take your time,” he offers, so she doesn't resist the urge to stick her tongue out at him, rewarded when he smiles.

So she takes a breath and looks up. It's impossible to catch starlight in Gotham, too polluted as with too many skyscrapers, but in the neighborhood they are, it's still better to look up than down. 

“I know my childhood's messed up like, really messed up: I tried to tell M'gann about it once, just some memories and stuff, and she ended up so horrified she hugged me for an hour. And I know that there is no Social Services worker that would read about it and wouldn't think I'm traumatized somehow... but I'm not? I'm fucked up enough that I know it's wrong, but I'm not Arkham-fucked up like, it doesn't keep me from sleeping, know what I mean?”

Kaldur puts his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently, his frown now full of concern..

“I hardly would consider you 'fucked up', Artemis.”

She reaches for his hand, squeezing his fingers a little. “Thanks, Kal. That's sweet. I mean, you're wrong 'cause I so am, but it's still sweet for you to say so.”

She scores another little point on her tally when Kaldur shakes his head, smiling. Artemis is almost sad about having to break that smile.

“So... don't take this the wrong way, but. Did you come all the way to Gotham just to ask me about my childhood memories? 'cause you could've done that anytime.”

Just like that, the easiness is lost. Kaldur moves his hand from her shoulder, leaning down to rest his arms on his knees, keeping his fingertips pressed together. 

“Artemis... could I make a personal question? You can, of course, not answer it.”

She can't really think of anything that Kaldur could ask her that wouldn't merit an asnwer, so Artemis shrugs.

“Sure, shoot me.”

“Did you ever consider becoming an assassin like your parents?”

Okay, so maybe she lacks imagination 'cause, um, wow.

Kaldur isn't looking at her. In fact, if it wasn't because the offness that Kaldur has had that made him come to her home, she probably _would_ have called him off, friend or not friend. But Kaldur isn't one to make questions just to hurt, and Artemis tells herself that, if Kaldur is asking that, it's most likely _not_ because he doesn't trust her and just because of. Something else. But, seriously, no reason wh to be paranoic, right?

(Look, she's born and raised in goddamn _Gotham_. Being paranoic in Gotham just means that you don't die so easily).

So she takes a deep breath and leans over her hands too, but to look up again, makes herself relax.

“'Consider' isn't really the word. I pretty much had no choice over it,” keeping her hands from flexing over is taking pretty much her whole stubborness, just as keeping all the memories of the trainings her dad made her go through which... she's not really going to share because _those_ do manage to keep her awake every now and then. “I was thinking about running away, y'know? Like, if mom hadn't gotten her parole then? I don't think I'd have lasted more than a few weeks before I was out.”

Artemis feels Kaldur's eyes on her, but she keeps looking at the sky. She can cheerfully talk about the time she was seven and she broke her wrist during training and then she got an awesome purple cast and Jade drew a bunny on it, but talking about those last few months with her dad, when he was pretty much forcing her to kill?

There's no way she can do it if she acknowledges he's there.

“Why didn't you?”

“Mom,” she says. A soft, humorless laugh. “And I had nowhere to go. I didn't think that dad was going to go and find me or anything like that, but... I was alone and the only thing I knew to do was fight and probably kill. I didn't want to end up having to actually become a criminal just to not be my dad's assassin.”

“What about Batman?” his voice sounds kind.

Artemis snorts. “You kidding? I was sure that the moment I asked for help, I'd be dropped in Social Services if he was feeling charitable or in juvie if he wasn't. But... truth is, I had almost convinced myself of running away. 'cause I'm not an assassin. Crock or not, I always knew that I wasn't meant to be that.”

“Do you love your father, my friend?”

Well, wasn't that a loaded question. She sighs, closing her eyes for a moment before she looks at Kaldur.

“It's... too complicated to just use one word on my relationship with my dad, Kaldur.” 

He looks ashamed. 

“I apologize, it was rude of me.”

She waves her hand in the air.

“Nothing like that. It's just, well, crap with words.” She's surprsied she finds a smile for him, but she does, for an instant. Then Artemis shrugs, feeling awkward, not looking at him. “He's never winning a father of the year award... but he kept me fed, clothed and every now and then he remembered to do something nice like bringing me a new toy or a new book. I... I don't hate him? I probably should, but I don't. It's not like I want him dead or anything. But if he stayed in jail for good, that'd be nice.”

“Oh,” Kaldur says and that's that.

It'd probably anger her, but when she looks at Kaldur, he's frowning even harder than before. 

“Kaldur?” Artemis asks, this time her putting her hand on Kaldur's shoulder. “Are you alright?”

He doesn't answer. But his head drops forward with a sigh. Artemis bites her tongue to resist babbling on him, kind of wishing that he had gone to Roy because she has no idea what's going on: she doesn't have her mom and Jade's talent of reading people.

But then, before she can actually start babbling, Kaldur speaks, abruptly. 

“Calvin Durham is not my father. As if ashamed by his outburts, Kaldur takes a deep breath, looking towards his hands, pressing the fingertips tight against each other. “... at least, not the biological one.”

“What? How... I mean... who...?”

Good one, Crock. 

Kaldur closes his eyes as if he was hurt. Artemis kind of feels a little like in a soap opera: if he tells her that they're actually half siblings or something like that, she's probably going to break down into hysterical giggles. 

“Black Manta.”

Which, okay. Wow. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, no sound coming. With each passing moment, Artemis sees how Kaldur's shoulders go more and more tense, but her mind is scrambling to find something to say, some kind of comfort, of reassurance that he still is and always will be one of the best persons she has evern met.

Which is _exactly_ why her dickhead of a brain goes with: “Welcome to the Evil Dad Club.”

For a moment, the only sound is of the city: buses and Tvs and sirens blasting in the distance. Kaldur looks at her, surprise clear in his face. Artemis is pretty sure that her face looks exactly like that.

“... beg pardon?”

Look, she already screwed up, better run with it, right?

“The Evil Dad Club. We've got meetings each Friday. So far it's just Conner and me, so a new member should really lighten up the meetings.”

Kaldur stares at her for a moment with clear desbelief and then he does something that, she's pretty sure, neither him nor her expected.

Kaldur laughs.

Not just a soft chuckle, or an amused shake of his head: Kaldur throws his head back and laughs hard. Artemis has never seen him laugh like that, and she's pretty sure that in that laughter there's must be some degree of hysterics, but Kaldur's laugh is too contagious and she ends up laughing as well, leaning against him. 

When they stop, the offness she had seen in Kaldur's gone. Instead he smiles at her.

“Thank you, Artemis,” he says sincerely. “I needed that.”

“Don't mention it. I mean it, really, _never_ mention it: Birdbrain wouldn't let me live it down ever,” she fakes a shudder – even if she's being dead serious because she can just _see_ Dick's troll grin. 

Kaldur shakes his head, amusement clear on his face. Artemis kind of hates doing this, but she kind of has too. Now that she knows why Kaldur came to her. 

“Are you okay, Kal?”

“... I don't know yet,” Kaldur sighs. “There is a lot I need to think off, both with my king and with my parents. There are many things that I do not understand and there are certain... truths, shall I say, that need to reconcile with this other truth.”

“It doesn't change you,” Artemis says. “You know that, right? Having an evil dad doesn't make you evil. I mean, look at Luke Skywalker.”

“I would rather look at Artemis Crock for reassurances on that, if it's all the same,” Kaldur smiles when he says that and Artemis is once again struck with the thought of wondering how and why the guy is single. 

But before she can answer something, anything, her phone rings, just once before it stops. She doesn't need to look at it. 

“C'mon, dinner's ready,” she says, standing up. “I should warn you, it's the first time mom makes curry. I can promise you that she won't be trying to poison us, but anything could happen.”

“You forget, my friend, I have eaten _Roy's_ food,” Kaldur stands as well. “I am certain nothing your mother prepares can be worse.”

She laughs, walking before him. But, before they go to her apartment, she turns to look at him again, moving to hold his hand. Artemis isn't really big on touch, but this feels like one of those things that are needed. 

“You're not your father, Kaldur,” she tells him, squeezing his hand. “Trust me on this one, okay? This hasn't and it won't change you.”

For an answer, he just smiles at her, offness gone and now replaced by some kind of sadness. Artemis doesn't know how to tell him that it's not the same case because she was raised by a bad guy but that he was raised by good parents and that's what's important, but Kaldur squeezes her hand back before letting go and he doesn't ask her not to tell anyone, and that trust means more to her than she will ever know how to say.

So they go to her apartment and have dinner together and tell team stories for her mom and that's that.

At least until the next friday when, just as she and Conner are about to start training, Kaldur asks, with a perfect poker face, extremely matter of factly – and totally trolling her, the ass - if this is what she meant by meetings.

Conner has to train with Rocket instead of her, because she's too busy laughing her ass off.


End file.
